


The Life and Times of Kiki

by the_great_nagi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Crappy Father, Depression, Homophobia, Internet, M/M, Racism, Sexy Thoughts, Transphobia, Uh??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:38:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_great_nagi/pseuds/the_great_nagi





	The Life and Times of Kiki

I was born in Brooklyn, I think. My mother never really told me the details, except that unlike my elder sister, I was born at a reasonable time of day. A female, or so they said, who was dubbed young Chiara by my father. Apparently, it was his turn to name the baby. After that, we moved to Michigan.

According to my mother, my childhood was quite the bumpy road. Dad would drive around drunk with my sister and I sitting around in the car, and Mom would make him take side roads and tried to be sure that he would avoid the highways. I can only assume that my infantile self had actually been in many a near-death experience before I turned three years old. 

I wonder if, as a child, I simply took this as a way to prepare me for my hellish future. My mother said that, outside of doing the average baby things, I was generally very indifferent. After learning how to speak, apparently, I preferred to speak to things like crayons and toy blocks than my own parents. I had learned my sentences backwards. Rather than trying to make sense of words, I memorized full sentences from other things without even knowing what they meant. At approximately three years old, I had a toy that rattled off facts about the solar system, and they stuck so I can speak them word for word, though those words made not a lick of sense to me.

Another odd thing about me was my "magic power", if you will. One day, my mother brought me to the house of a co-worker or friend of hers. That friend had a child, a son with autism who was nonverbal and spent most of the visit screaming and crying. There was a small basement with a TV and some toys and blankets at the house. I disappeared at some point, only to be found with the son, quietly watching TV. He was entirely silent in my presence.

I'll never really know what I did, but this had my mother entirely convinced that I was autistic as well. In the end, it turned out I had aspergers, which is on the spectrum, so I suppose she wasn't entirely wrong. Along with those, I was diagnosed with asthma, eczema, and a whole plethora of allergies.

I went to a preschool for special needs children, I think. I never really understood it, but many of the other children couldn't speak, and instead preferred to scream to me in gibberish. Being the nervous 3-year-old I was, I generally avoided all except one girl. I don't remember much about her, except that the two of us seemed to enjoy cutting up Halloween magazines with scissors. But she could speak, and she didn't get up in my face or sound intimidating, so I generally stayed around her.

There were some other people I knew. They were both able-minded, so I rarely saw them after the morning. Their names I remember. There was Lahari, or at least I believe that's how her name was spelled, who I never ever saw outside of there. She was Indian, and that's really all I remember. Then there was Pauline, whose house I actually went to at one point. She was a blonde, with chubby cheeks and glasses, or at least that's how I remember her.

There were some other people who seemed to like me, but I've always been a little intolerant. They all drooled too much, or spoke too slowly, and my little three-year-old brain didn't seem to get that they had disorders and mental illnesses. But I think I was happier alone, or with my sister, anyway.

Either way, I was only in that place for a year or two before Mom got a job in New York, and we moved back there. However, instead of living in Brooklyn, we moved to a little backwater town in Westchester County called Irvington. I went to kindergarten and elementary school at the Dows Lane school. Looking back, I honestly hated that entire school district. I've always been a kinesthetic learner, which doesn't really fly in public schools. Apparently it's much better to just assume taking notes and writing bullets will help.

Though the curriculum bored me, and every year from kindergarten to 3rd grade was no challenge at all, the teachers still seemed to think I was a goddamned idiot. Probably because my parents, whether they decided to or were required to, said that I had aspergers. For some reason, in public school, if your child has any sort of mental disorders, they are automatically treated like a 5-year-old. Though, to be fair, at the time I was a 5-year-old.

In my years, most of the students didn't really care for me that much. Some thought nothing of my presence, others took pleasure in bullying my young, feeble self. As a child, I felt slightly hurt, but otherwise thought nothing of it. Soon enough they just got sick of tormenting me. Either that, or the teachers finally caught on and reprimanded their rude actions.

I hit a roadblock at about 4th grade, when I got sick of doing homework. Every year since, I've had problems doing homework. It just bores me to no end. My father didn't really like this about me, but his yelling didn't penetrate my thick skull. If anything, it only made me cry. They say parents yell because they care, but honestly, my father just yelled because he was drunk.

At this point, I was now an adolescent.


End file.
